"Oh! it is five francs!" she exclaimed.
"Well, one may dine better on five francs than two and a half."
"It is too dear, Monsieur Jean."
"Then there is the Hôtel du Louvre table-d'hôte, four francs,—very good, too."
"It is too fashionable,—too many Americans."
"Parbleu! one can be an American for one meal, can he not? They say Americans live well in their own country. They have meat three times a day,—even the poorest laborers."
"And eat meat for breakfast,—it is horrible!"
"Yes,—they are savages."
After discussing the various places and finding that his ideas of a good dining-place were somewhat more enlarged than her ideas, Mlle. Fouchette finally brought him down to a Bouillon in Boule' Miche',—the student appellation for Boulevard St. Michel. She would have preferred any other quarter of the city, though not earnestly enough to stand out for it.
They settled on the Café Weber, opposite the ancient College d'Harcourt, a place of the Bouillon order, with innumerable dishes graded up from twenty centimes to a franc and an additional charge of ten centimes for the use of a napkin.